


Simplicity in Service

by writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)



Series: December Challenge [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex POV, Bootblacking- or well the 18th century version of it, Canon Era, Historical Inaccuracies, M/M, Service Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/pseuds/writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle
Summary: Hercules offers to teach Alex how to clean up, to dress to impress.Alex learns how much he enjoys serving on his knees.





	

“See, you want to make sure you get them nice and clean.” Hercules moves his brush in quick, sure circles distributing the lather along the side of the boot before grabbing his rag to wipe the surface dry. "Especially if you want to impress the General."

Everything about him seems confident. Like it’s something he’s done a hundred times before and as a tailor, perhaps he has. But the experience is new for Hamilton, who hovers on the edge of his stool, trying not to move his foot too much.

Does his best to focus on what his friend is telling him. After the cleaning comes the dubbin and for that, Hercules grabs a new piece of cloth to massage the oil in. Circles still, though this time slower.

There’s a general sense of gratitude that he has someone in his life who is both knowledgeable and willing to help with his education in such matters. They've spent the latter part of the afternoon trying on various coats and discussing the best fit of breeches and now Hamilton sits, sleeves pushed up to his elbows as Hercules goes over the details.

When Hercules finishes relacing the boots, he glances up. “You want to give it a try or are you good for the day?”

As quick as his mind is, Hamilton wants to get this right. Needs to practice with someone there to guide him if he misses a step. There’s not only impressing the General on the line, but the Winter’s ball is coming up too. John's married, Lafayette left a wife back in France, and as much as Hamilton isn't sure family life is meant for him, he also knows what is expected. What questions it might raise if he doesn't find someone. Questions that he isn't prepared to answer yet.

So Hamilton switches places with Hercules. Pauses for a moment before bending down to undo his boots, kneeling in his breeches and stockings on the shop’s floor. No need to undo all of Hercules’ hard work by scuffing them so soon, and considering the hour there’s no fear of interruption.

Considering his coat lay abandoned across one of the tailor’s tables, he relies on his waistcoat to act as one last barrier for propriety's sake.

Hamilton is not unfamiliar with the gossip regarding his figure, the teasing accusations that he might stuff his stockings to create a more appealing outline. Finds himself rather proud of the comments, because though he is slight, his calves are well defined and enviable.

The legs in front of him could not be accused of daintiness, they are symbols of power all their own and Alex considers them as he rearranges the supplies Hercules brought out.

Pulls the left one forward before asking Hercules’ opinion on whether or not he should club his hair for the dance. Makes quick work of the laces, placing them to the side as he listens. Keeps up the idle chatter as he works, alternating between dipping his brush in water, brushing it along the soap for a nice lather and those same quick circles.

Does the first wipe down before using one finger wrapped in cloth to go along the seams, careful to remove even the smallest flecks of dirt or leftover soap. It’s important to him that he shows the same attention to detail that Hercules had. Wants Hercules to be proud to wear these boots.

The dubbin is slick but easy enough to work with and he focuses first on making sure the toe and then the sides are completely covered. Uses a second clean cloth to really massage the oil in. Being thorough is important, both in terms of looks and keeping Hercules’ toes warm and dry in the coming weeks.

He’s careful to keep his fingers clean so that he can maneuver Hercules’ leg this way and that without ruining the stockings covering those fine calves.

It’s only when Hamilton pulls the shoe so that the heel rests against his knee rather than the box that Hercules speaks up. “Not to discourage you, but there is another boot.”

There’s amusement in the man’s voice and heat flares around Hamilton’s ears even while he places the polished boot back on the box. Doesn’t waste time with the next one, immediately placing the heel on his knee. It’s closer that way.

Feels right in a way that Hamilton can’t explain.

This time he drapes the lace over his shoulder before beginning the cleaning process. There’s no conversation to distract himself this time, no jokes about wooing the ladies. Just the slightly rough feeling of wood in Hamilton’s hand as he brushes the toe, the weight of Hercules’ heel digging into his thigh when Hamilton shifts positions. Brings it up so that he can get around the sole.

“You’re doing good,” Hercules says, leaning forward to check Hamilton’s work.

Except that brings them all the closer and Hamilton isn’t sure whether he wants to hold his breath or inhale deeply. Revel in the mix of boot polish and Hercules' own musk. Broad shoulders hover just above his vision and he can feel Hercules watching him but can’t quite bring himself to look up.

Doesn’t have a choice when a large hand claps on his shoulder. “Alex- good work.”

Alex. Hercules has used his Christian name before, but it’s never felt like this before. Almost lewd, but the grip Hercules has on him means that he’s unable to pull back. To retreat.

Isn’t sure he wants to. Not when Hercules is right there, radiating heat. Right where, if Hercules were someone else, perhaps someone who shared Alex's predilections, Alex could bring their lips together. Explain away the strange feeling in the bottom of his stomach.

Releasing his shoulder, Hercules brushes a stray curl back from his face, tucking it away and Alex rushes to apologize for not putting it up properly before beginning.

A statement that Hercules silences with ease, fingers brushing along Alex’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact. Hercules seems to be looking for something, and Alex squirms, unsure that he’s meeting the mark. Wishes he would do something, because the longer they stay like this, the more Alex wishes he'd close the gap.

Hercules leans back instead, increasing the pressure of his boot on Alex’s thigh when he encourages him to continue his excellent work.

Unsure what to say, Alex nods before reaching for the dubbin. Allows the scent to ground him, pull him back into making sure the boots are perfect. So much easier than trying to tame his racing thoughts or think too much about what it means that Hercules’ compliment unsettles him so much. Definitely better than thinking about the way tan fabric stretches over thick thighs, to what must lay beneath that same fabric- just a little further up. Still within reach.

There’s something immersive about the experience. The smell, the details that require so much of his attention, the feel of the cloth and the boot beneath it. It pulls him further under, to this calm place he’s not used to experiencing.

By the time he’s finished examining the leather for any missed spots he thinks he might have settled again.

Something that is proven wrong when he picks up the laces. As ridiculous as it is, he doesn’t want this to be over. Doesn’t want to lace them up just yet, but there’s nothing left to do and his behavior must seem so strange already.

So Alex moves the boot he’s balancing back onto the box, settling on both knees. Ties the last knot and folds his hands in his lap. Prays that Hercules didn’t notice how unsteady his hands were as he looks up, waiting for the final judgment.

When it doesn’t come, Alex tenses his thigh muscles to try and resist the urge to flee, aware of how ridiculous that would seem. “Does it meet your standards?”

Hercules leans forward once more, elbows on knees but he isn’t looking at his shoes. “Do you think you did a good job?”

Alex isn’t the one with experience, Hercules is meant to be his mentor. But part of that is apparently assessing his own work. “I think so.”

Hopes so. For whatever reason, he really hopes he has. That Hercules won't go back over what he's done, won't need to fix a mistake. As ridiculous as it sounds, Alex hopes that Hercules thinks of him every time he pulls on his boots. After all, Alex knows he will.

“You should feel proud of yourself, then.” Alex does. This is the most hands-on thing he’s done in ages, so much more practical than anything he does with the quill.

Still the moment drags on, Hercules looming above him, Alex practically half dressed and on his knees. The awareness of it all, of how vulnerable of a position he has put himself in-

Hercules speaks, drawing Alex’s attention to him. “Of course, a proper session isn’t finished without a kiss. Right on the toe, if it pleases you.”

A kiss? Hercules wants him to-

“I was joking, Alex.” Hercules squeezes his shoulder, concerned expression on his face. “No need to look so stricken.”

Alex isn’t sure how he’s supposed to look, to feel. Something Hercules seems to realize because he moves to smooth Alex’s hair once more. “I shouldn’t have said such a thing. If you need a moment to collect yourself, there is no need to leave just yet.”

It isn’t until Hercules says that he can stay right there, where he is, that Alex leans forward. Presses his forehead into Hercules’ breeches and allows himself to be touched. To consider, if only for a moment, that Hercules might not think him a freak if Alex were to kiss his boots next time.


End file.
